Poem: Lucille | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
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Poem: Lucille 

Twist, Arkansas

I am here—
deciphering echoes. Left hand’s
got to trust right: the way two bodies

move in the darkness together,
separate, grooving into another’s flesh

like music—always like music.

How things do go on.
In the shrinking hours
dance hall shadows shine and pulse

and erupt into anger,
barrelhouse bursting into a lake of flame.

We spew
into fist-cold night—snowflakes
floating, fickle, small miracle

amid the ash. The air explosive,
eager with kerosene. What is worth

going back in for, what is worth

fighting over—sometimes
there is no difference:

the word I’m looking for is love.

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